


I Did My Best, It Wasn't Much

by Keira_63



Series: The Minor Fall, The Major Lift [5]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Part of the Minor Fall Major Lift series, Spoilers for Series 2, Spoilers for Series 3 Episode 1, Spoilers for The Empty Hearse, Spoilers for series 1, Story titles taken from the song Hallelujah, The Empty Hearse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keira_63/pseuds/Keira_63
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns, expecting everything to be as it was, only to be shocked by the realisation that it won’t be. Molly isn’t John (and she realises Sherlock doesn’t want her to be), but she does her best to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Did My Best, It Wasn't Much

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fifth part in a series spanning from pre-series until post series 3. It was inspired by lyrics from the song Hallelujah - the series title and each story title is a line, or part of a line, from the song. This part is set during 3x1, The Empty Hearse  
> No beta so sorry for any mistakes.

Sherlock’s exoneration was the result of two years of hard work by Mycroft and his team. Moriarty had been far from stupid and had covered most of his tracks extremely well.  
Fortunately for Mycroft, there were loose ends and events that didn’t add up. While hard to spot for many, they were child’s play for the formidable mind of Mycroft Holmes, once he noticed them.  
It took time. Public opinion and negative media coverage were powerful, even in the face of the hard evidence Mycroft produced of Sherlock’s innocence and the truth of Moriarty.  
Mycroft, while he despised legwork, was no slouch when it came to ensuring the exoneration of his younger brother (even if he did delegate most aspects of the plan that necessitated travel and remain largely the brains of the operation).

When the news broke, declaring Sherlock innocent, Molly felt immense relief. She had known the truth, and she knew Sherlock didn’t care what people thought of him as long as he could do the work he loved, but she had been angry on his behalf about what the public had said about him.  
Greg and Mrs Hudson found it all to be bittersweet, because to them it came too late to save Sherlock. Molly longed to tell them the truth, but she had waited two years and knew she could wait a bit longer in order to keep them safe.  
John didn’t contact her. It didn’t surprise her (but it upset her). Mary, however, let her know that John was glad, though he was still immensely angry at the press for taking so long to see the truth. Like Greg and Mrs Hudson, he felt it had come too late.

Molly didn’t know how much longer Sherlock would be away. He might have been exonerated, but he still needed to finish his work of unravelling Moriarty’s vast empire.  
So she waited and worried, though her heart was lighter than it had been since Sherlock’s fall.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had no idea that Sherlock would be returning.  
Mycroft had been, as usual, tight-lipped, and the last postcard she had received from Sherlock had been almost two months previously, the image of the Eiffel Tower proclaiming he was (or had been) in Paris.  
She wasn't sure where he'd gone from there, though, and his message had been no different than usual, in no way suggesting he was close to finishing his dismantling of Moriarty's empire.  
Then, suddenly, he was back, standing behind her as she put her things away in her locker at the end of the day.  
She jumped in shock.  
Of course she did. She was aware that he was alive, but seeing him, with no warning beforehand, after two years, was a surprise.  
She smiled, though, because he was finally back, finally something more than a ghost.

Her smile dimmed when she saw the state of his face.  
"John?" she guessed, and when he nodded, she sighed - it seemed like anger had overruled relief for John, at least for the moment.  
She got him out the back door quickly. Since he was back and had been exonerated, it was safe for him in public, but she didn't want to deal with all of the drama someone noticing him would bring while she was still reeling over the fact that he was actually there, in front of her.  
He shoved on the hat he'd obviously been using as part of a disguise and they got the tube to her flat. It was ridiculous, how easily he could disguise himself from the general public, especially considering his features weren't exactly common. She was glad of it, though, when it made it easy for them to get to her home in peace.  
She kept a medical kit, well stocked. It was mostly for Sherlock's sake. She'd started in university, patching him up the best she could when he injured himself on cases or while he was high, and she'd never stopped. It hadn't been much use in the past few years - he'd had John and then he'd been away (dead to the world), but now she was glad she had it.  
There were no serious injuries, but she'd known that from the start. Even angry, there was no way John would have truly hurt Sherlock.  
He told her what had happened as she stitched him up, laughing at parts, much to his consternation. It was funny, but a bit sad. Sherlock should have realised things would have changed, but he could be blind to things like that and at least he'd got the message now.  
She was pleased that Sherlock approved of Mary, and that she seemed to like him in return. They were the two people who most loved John Watson, and they'd need to get along.  
She had a sneaking feeling that John might even regret introducing them, as they were quite likely to get into some trouble together, or at least band together to tease John.  
She dealt with Sherlock’s injuries quickly and efficiently. Neither of them talked much, but they didn’t mind. They weren’t quite sure what to say to each other yet, not ready to have a proper talk. Instead, Molly found herself simply enjoying his company, letting herself continually verify that he was actually back, truly returned from his fight against Moriarty’s criminal empire.  
For the moment, his silent company was enough.

Once Sherlock had left her flat, patched up and determined to have John forgive him, Molly waited.  
She received phone calls soon enough, from Greg and Mrs Hudson, both delighted at Sherlock's return.  
Greg surprised her a bit - considering what association with Sherlock had cost him, she had expected more anger, but he just seemed pleased, and grateful to Molly for helping when he couldn't.  
Mrs Hudson sobbed (a lot), but Molly could tell, even through the phone, that he tears were happy ones. She invited Molly round as soon as she was free to talk over the news.  
Mycroft, obviously busy manoeuvring the perfect way for his brother to return, an exonerated hero, sent Anthea to Molly.  
Anthea, quiet as usual, simply informed Molly that no one but John, Greg, Mrs Hudson and Mary could know that she had helped Sherlock fake his death. Molly didn't mind that. There was no one else she'd tell.

John didn't call.  
Mary did, expressing her approval of Sherlock, but she remained silent on the issue of John.  
He must be angry with her. She had expected it, even thought she probably deserved it.  
It still hurt.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Sherlock text, asking her to come and see him at Baker Street (though he hadn't exactly phrased it as a question), she was nervous.  
She rarely visited 221B; outside of going to see Mrs Hudson she had been there only once (the Christmas party, but she didn't really like to think about that). Sherlock had only moved to Baker Street just before he met John, and by then she wasn't ever at his residence helping with experiments and cases as she had once done.  
Rehab had been good for him, she liked to remind herself, it had saved his life - but she still resented that he had come back and acted like she was a near-stranger.

“You wanted to see me.”  
“Yes. Molly.”  
“Yes.”  
“Would you... would you like to solve crimes-”  
“Have dinner?”  
“Ooh.”

She tried to forget her little slip-up, just grateful that Sherlock hadn’t torn her apart about her obvious love for him. Instead, he stayed awkwardly silent for a few minutes before declaring his plans for the day.  
She followed his lead and pretended it hadn’t happened, determined to enjoy her time with Sherlock despite her earlier hiccup.

The whole day was like a dream.  
It was Sherlock no longer ignoring her, but asking for her help and opinions, sharing his work with her outside of the confines of St Barts. It was like it had been before Sherlock went to rehab.  
She loved it.  
But the ring on her finger weighed heavily on her mind the whole day. She knew she was in love with Sherlock - she had no illusions that she could play it off as a stupid crush that would fade. It wouldn't.  
The day felt too much like the sort of date Sherlock would come up with, if he were ever inclined to do so (not that it was a date, she was well aware they were just cases for Sherlock).  
Still, some of his actions and words had been distinctly complementary.

“Should I be making notes?”  
“If it makes you feel better.”  
“It’s just that that’s what John says he does, so if I’m being John …”  
“You’re not being John - you’re being yourself.”

He'd explained things to her, let her deduce things about the crime scene.  
It shocked her when he actually followed her unspoken order to apologise when he had laughed at the idea that their train-obsessed client might have a girlfriend. Then, during the conversation, he'd been friendly with her, sharing eye rolls over the client's love of trains.  
It had been brilliant.  
He'd also called her John again. She forgave him that, though, because he really could be that oblivious sometimes and he obviously missed his best friend.

It really was like they'd gone back in time to when Sherlock didn't stomp all over her feelings (much).  
They had a rapport, and it was much less awkward than most of their interactions in the past few years.  
Her mind whispered that she'd never had so much fun with Tom. He liked ordinary pastimes, such as going to the pub or the cinema. Molly had never had the heart to tell him she found all that quite boring if she had to do it more than occasionally. Her idea of fun was more in line with Sherlock's.  
She was a terrible fiancée.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As they headed downstairs, away from the client’s apartment, Molly saw as Sherlock entered his mind palace.  
She knew better than to interrupt him, and instead waited until his eyes focused on her once more, “so I’m going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps,” he told her, speaking rapidly and starting down the stairs once more.  
“Right,” she replied as he passed her, mentally reviewing where she could get maps rather than thinking about the sort of thing she probably ought to have been instead, like Tom.  
She was startled suddenly by a question from Sherlock, “fancy some chips?”  
She could only stutter out a one-word answer, scarcely able to believe what he had just asked. He didn’t usually eat on cases and the last time he’d invited her to eat with him had been just before he’d faked his death and only some packets of crisps (plus, she knew it had just been a polite front to get her to help him).  
“ I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions.”  
“ Did you get him off a murder charge?” she asked, sceptical about someone that would like Sherlock enough to give him extra food.  
“No - I helped him put up some shelves.”  
She giggled, because the image was incredibly funny, and her heart leapt when he smiled briefly at her, as if he enjoyed her amusement.

She paused then. Because it was all going so well. Helping with a case, having chips. She had to know what was actually going on, whether it was just another ruse or a genuine attempt at friendship (she refused to consider him being interested in anything further).  
“Sherlock?”  
“ Hmm?” he murmured, only half paying attention.  
“ What was today about?”  
He paused, “saying thank you,” he told her, with no trace of sarcasm or mocking.  
“For what?”  
“Everything you did for me.”  
“It’s okay. It was my pleasure.”  
And it was. She was pleased to hear his thanks, but she knew him well enough that she had never expected it. Besides, it was what a friend should do, and she did see him as a friend.  
“No, I mean it,” he said earnestly, and she realised that he wanted her to understand that he was truly grateful.  
It took her breath away. Apologies were hard enough from Sherlock, but he had never given her such a genuine one. So of course, she defaulted to stutters.  
“I don’t mean ‘pleasure’. I mean, I didn’t mind. I wanted to.”

He stepped closer to her and she felt her heart race increase as his eyes met her. His words were intense, but still soft.  
“Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible.”  
She couldn’t breathe for a second, so shocked by the words he had spoken. She knew (hoped) she meant something to him, that there were some vestiges of their old friendship left even when he ignored and belittled her. But an thank you, and then for him to tell her how much she mattered to him, it was almost too much.  
He took a breath, “but you can’t do this again, can you?”  
She smiled slightly to try and cover the tears building and the lump in her throat, “I had a lovely day. I’d love to - I just ... um …”  
She looked down, couldn’t properly face him knowing that she was agreeing to the lie, letting him think she loved Tom (and strangely enough, she really did think he believed it, despite his usual skill with determining when she was lying to him).  
He looked to her hand, to the ring on her finger, “oh, congratulations, by the way.”  
(There was a little bit of heartbreak in his eyes. Molly didn’t see it).

She babbled at him, of course, talking about Tom and how normal he was (as if normal was something she really wanted).  
She waited for him to catch her in the lie, but he never did. Instead he just looked at her, sad and smiling at the same time.  
“I hope you’ll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it. After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths.”  
He stepped closer to her, smiling in a way he rarely did (so sincerely) and then he leaned in to kiss her cheek.  
She remembered when he kissed her in a similar manner at the Christmas party, but this was different. This was more. Yet it felt almost like a goodbye, like he was letting her go (he’d always had her, but she’d never thought she had him).  
She closed her eyes and heard the door open, his footsteps getting quieter. She felt so tired and knew the day had overwhelmed her.

She was sad too, because his actions had shown her that maybe he did feel something for her. Maybe there was a chance for them.  
But there was Tom, and she didn’t quite trust her judgement of Sherlock’s actions.  
He was merely being friendly, she told herself, he was grateful and that was it.  
(The truth was she was terrified that she might be right, that there could be a future for herself and Sherlock. She couldn’t bring herself to take a chance, knowing the humiliation she faced if she was wrong).  
She had to be more sure.  
(It didn’t occur to her that Sherlock might have been just as scared as she was of whatever was between them, if not more so).

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day after John had nearly been burnt alive, Molly went over to his new flat for the first time to visit.  
She was nervous, and nearly turned back a dozen times. John had dealt with a whirlwind of emotion, action and danger the past few days and she wasn't sure she should cause any more stress by showing up.  
Still, she desperately wanted to be sure he was ok - Sherlock and Mary had both told her that he was shaken, but unharmed, yet she felt the need to see for herself.  
There was also the fact that she wanted to apologise in person for hiding Sherlock's survival from him. John was a good friend, and she knew her actions, however right for the situation, had hurt him.  
She would make it right. She was determined.

She knocked on his door before she had the chance to change her mind again, and waited nervously for John to answer.  
He was surprised to see her, she could tell, but he didn’t appear particularly angry and she took that as a good sign.  
Mary appeared at his shoulder almost immediately, and Molly deflated. She opened her mouth to say she’d come back, that she didn’t want to disturb them, but Mary held up a hand first.  
“I’m going out for a bit,” she told John, “I think you two need to have a conversation and you don’t need me hovering.  
She grabbed her coat and bag, out of the door and down the hall before either Molly or John could say a word.  
John simply held the door open and invited her in. She took in his flat as she entered.  
It was clean (a far cry from the danger zone 221B had been when he and Sherlock lived there), sparse (an avoidance of memories, probably relating to Sherlock) and neutral (he wasn’t properly settled there yet) - she had definitely picked up some small talent for deduction from Sherlock.

“Tea?” asked John as he gestured to the sofa, but she shook her head and sat down, biting her lip (a nervous habit she thought she’d managed to kick) and wondering exactly what to say.  
She settled for a soft “I’m sorry,” as John sat down opposite her.  
Before he could give a reply, she spoke some more, determined to at least get something out before he possibly kicked her out.  
“It was just so sudden and he needed my help … he would have told you, I’m sure of it, but it would have put you in so much danger … I wanted to tell you, John, I really did, but it was your life at stake, and the lives of so many others … I know you’re probably angry, and I deserve it, but I just wanted to apologise and I’m just so sorry.”  
She paused for a breath, before continuing, “I just want you to try and forgive Sherlock. He needs you so much. I tried to help him, but it wasn’t the same and I know he kept wishing you were there. You’re busy, I’m sure, but he doesn’t deal with change well and I don’t think he expected to come back to such a different dynamic. It’s confusing him but he will accept it better if he has his best friend back.”  
She lapsed into silence then, having got out everything she wished to say. She only hoped that John would accept it, or at least try to understand her actions and the reason for her secrecy.

They were silent for a few minutes, Molly trying not to fidget while John was clearly deep in thought. When he spoke, she jumped slightly in surprise.  
“I’m not angry with you,” he told her, “I was, I’ll admit, for a while, but I know you just did what you had to. It’s just, no one said a thing to me.”  
He paused a moment before slight anger showed in his expression, “I thought he was dead, I bloody mourned for him.”  
“I know,” Molly replied quietly, “and he did wish it could be different, but he’s not infallible John, despite what he sometimes believes. He makes mistakes and sometimes he can’t tie everything up neatly. What happened was better than the alternative.”  
He nodded in acknowledgement of her words and she continued, “I know he didn’t reveal his survival to you in quite the right way,” she paused, thinking over the absolutely disastrous evening Mary had described to her - Sherlock really should have known better - “but we both know how he is.”  
John snorted, a bit of laughter that lightened Molly’s heart, “bloody idiot he is at times,” he said, “I have missed him,” he admitted more softly.

He turned to face her properly, “I can forgive you Molly, even if there really isn’t much to forgive. I know how much it must have hurt you to lie to us, and I’m grateful to you for helping Sherlock.”  
She beamed at him, “thank you John, I really am sorry.”  
She paused, “what about Sherlock?”  
“We’ll see about Sherlock. After all, he’s annoyed and angered me plenty before. Not like this, but I know how his mind works. We’ll see.”  
“Now,” he said, “why don’t you tell me about everything I’ve missed.”

They weren’t back to normal. John needed time, and Molly knew that. But he was talking to her, he didn’t blame her and she was fairly sure he’d be back working with Sherlock soon enough.  
Things were getting back to normal, at least a little.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She decided to bring Tom to the gathering at Baker Street. It was a big step for her to introduce him to her friends, but she knew he'd get suspicious if she held off any more - it was already strange to him that she'd met his family and friends, while he had only met her cat, Toby (and neither he nor Toby had been thrilled with each other), since she was an orphan not particularly close to the rest of her family and all her friends were linked to Sherlock.  
It made it real, though, for Tom to meet her friends. Her mind rebelled at the step, convinced as she was that she could never actually go through with it and marry Tom.  
Sherlock haunted her mind, filling every corner and always in her thoughts.  
She wanted some happiness, didn't want to spend the rest of her life pining after Sherlock. Her life was enjoyable - she had a job and friends she loved, after all - but she wanted something more.  
Her mind whispered that Tom would never give her what she wanted, that only Sherlock could fill the hole in her heart.  
She continued on with Tom resolutely, determined to try and be happy.  
It didn't seem to work.

She introduced Tom to her friends because she thought if others believed that she had moved on, maybe she could believe it too.  
It backfired, of course, and the looks of scepticism on their faces told her exactly what they thought of Tom (replacement, inferior look-alike, placeholder).  
They were right.  
She put on a cheerful face anyway, insisted to Greg that she had moved on, ignored the expressions of concern.  
Then Sherlock came towards Tom to greet him, and she looked away, focusing on her conversation with Greg, but keeping one ear out for the inevitable deductions that would come from Sherlock's mouth.  
(She didn't see Sherlock's smile upon seeing her, nor did she notice when it was replaced by a frown when he got a closer look at Tom).  
The deductions never came. Sherlock left silently with John to deal with the press.  
She was disappointed. If Sherlock had deduced something embarrassing or dangerous or worrying about Tom (as she had expected he would) it could have given her the flimsy excuse she needed to break her engagement.  
Instead, he had obviously attempted to be 'nice' and while that was growth for Sherlock, she was irritated that he'd chosen such a time to try and be kind to her by refusing to point out her fiancé’s flaws.

She and Tom left soon after. As they headed home in a taxi, Molly found herself desperate to get home and away from Tom.  
(It wasn’t a good sign when she needed a break from her fiancé, especially when she had barely seen him lately).  
They ended up having an argument about setting a date for the wedding. Apparently the talk of John and Mary’s upcoming wedding had set him off and Molly found herself thinking that introducing Tom to her friends had been far too much trouble.  
She wouldn’t set a date, but her reluctance to explain her reasons to Tom made him suspicious (he was right to be, considering how so many of her recent thoughts involved how to escape the engagement).  
The argument ended when they arrived at Tom’s flat and he told her he’d visit her soon to see if she’d calmed down.  
She went to bed with her mind full of dread and her dreams full of Sherlock.

When Tom, the next day, asked if she'd thought any more about when she wanted to be married, she gave him a date about nine months away. She'd never wanted too fancy a wedding and so the date was realistic.  
She had to set a date, though, even if it was the last thing she wanted. That was what an engaged couple did, and they were usually much more excited about it than Molly was.  
It would all blow up in her face eventually, she was sure. She didn't even have the excuse of thinking she was really in love with Tom. She knew she wasn't. She was just a coward.  
Tom was pleased.  
(What she really needed, she thought, was a smack around the head and a good dose of courage, because she doubted she’d ever manage to end her farce of an engagement to Tom without it).  
When he went home a few hours later, she cried herself to sleep.  
It wouldn’t be the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> I debated whether or not to put the bomb threat in here, but I thought Molly might not even know about it. I would think Mycroft would try to keep it quiet, and while Sherlock or John might mention it later to Molly, in this story she doesn't know in the immediate aftermath.  
> I'm a bit worried about the scene between Molly and John, because it just felt a bit awkward to me so sorry if it seems off.  
> Finally, some people may wonder why Molly is still with Tom when she's accepted she's in love with Sherlock. The answer is that she's scared, doesn't want to hurt Tom (even if carrying on the engagement might do that) and she is unable to read Sherlock enough to know whether he'd return her feelings. She treasures their friendship and doesn't want to ruin it by blatantly offering a love he might not return. Tom is safe to her. But don't worry, as we all know the break-up comes between 3x2 and 3x3.
> 
> See the notes on the series page for the titles of the upcoming stories in this series.  
> Thanks for reading. Comments welcomed.  
> So sorry this took me so long. I've been so busy and got distracted. I don't know how long it will be until the next part, but I'll try not to make it too long.


End file.
